


New Color (On My Bare Walls)

by mammothluv



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Addison and Meredith. Elevators.  Hotels.  Inappropriate kissing and feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Color (On My Bare Walls)

**Author's Note:**

> Grey's Anatomy belongs to Shonda Rimes and ABC. Title is a lyric from "Single Girls" by Laura Jansen. I'm not making any profit and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> This was written for mrsfjl66 who so kindly bid on me in the fandomaid Japan auction. Thank you both for bidding on me and for being so patient when I took eight months to get this done. You are my favorite. I hope you enjoy it! Many thanks also to leobrat for the beta.

I.

It's inevitable.

She and Meredith are on a collision course, have been for months now. When Derek steps back from their little triangle, there's nothing left to disrupt the pull of Meredith's gravity.

It's obvious to Addison when she returns from L.A. that something had shifted. She recognizes the way Derek looks at Meredith now. It's the way he looked at Addison in the final years of their marriage, like he's giving up without even realizing it. Mark was just a symptom. Derek checked out and Addison slowly slipped away. It's a disconcerting sensation, slowly losing your footing on ground you thought you knew.

Given the amount of tequila Meredith is consuming at a rapid fire pace, Addison would guess that Meredith is feeling it now.

It's amazing to Addison how much seeing Meredith this way hurts her too.

If there's anyone Addison should feel alright about allowing to self-destruct, it's the woman whose panties she found in her husband's pocket less than three months ago. It would be so much easier to hate Meredith, easier than caring, than standing outside Meredith's room asking Derek not to hurt Meredith again. Addison can still taste the words on her tongue, her urgency taking her by surprise all over again.

She remembers too how her breath left her at the sight of Meredith weeks later, pale and icy blue. Every time Addison finds herself drawn to Meredith, the urge to comfort and protect her as confusing as it is irresistible. It’s not the same desire to heal that drives her as a surgeon; her desire to reach out to Meredith is more personal, impossible to detach from as hard as she tries.

But Derek was always there. He's not now. Not in any way that counts. If it's not obvious to anyone else, it's obvious to Addison.

This shouldn't be her problem. What a sane person would do, what Addison would do if the woman across the bar were anyone but Meredith Grey, is finish her drink and walk out of the bar.

What she's about to do is something entirely different and stupid. That's what happens with Meredith. Moments unfold of their own accord despite what common sense might dictate.

Addison walks across the bar until she's standing next to Meredith, who is intently studying her now almost empty glass.

"This seems familiar," Addison says.

"What?" Meredith's tone seems meant to convey disinterest but she simply sounds weary.

"You, this bar. You drinking way more than a woman your size should be able to drink without passing out."

"So, I drink. Whatever. I had a bad day. It's a coping mechanism. You shouldn't judge." Meredith sounds as defensive as a person can possibly sound when they're slurring half their words. She leans slightly, looking like she just might topple off her bar stool and it's all Addison can do not to reach out a hand to steady her.

"Do you realize, Dr. Grey, that having a coping mechanism that doesn't actually involve coping is problematic?"

"I might if I thought about it but I don't. I choose to drink, not think." Meredith pauses here, looking rather pleased with herself. "It rhymes. It's a motto." Meredith raises her glass in Addison's direction, as if in salute.

"Lovely." She'd thought Meredith was past this phase but she knows well the allure of familiar bad habits when life seems to be spinning out of control. She looks Meredith in the eye and motions in the direction of the door. "Come on," she says. "I'm taking you home."

Surprisingly, Meredith doesn't resist. She slams back the remaining liquid in her glass and then slides off her stool and follows Addison out the door and to Addison's car without question.

Addison doesn't bother asking for directions to Meredith's house and she's glad Meredith isn't sober enough to realize that means she's driven by before, as if this house were some part of the puzzle, some key to understanding this woman who has defined so much of her life in Seattle whether Addison wanted her to or not.

The rain is coming down hard now and Addison keeps her eyes on the road save a few quick glances at Meredith who is staring silently out the passenger side window, her hair mostly obscuring her face from Addison's view. Addison's fingers twitch again, wanting to reach out. Instead, she turns up the radio - an attempt to drown out her desire to brush the hair back from Meredith's face, make Meredith look at her.

When they arrive at Meredith's house, it's dark and no other cars are parked in the driveway. Addison sighs. Meredith lives with half the hospital and this would be the night when none of them are home. She wants desperately to be able to turn Meredith over to someone else, to go back to the hotel and try to forget whatever this feeling is that's rising insistently in her chest every time she looks at Meredith. Instead she gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side because Meredith is making no move to get out of the car on her own.

They make it halfway to the porch when Meredith stops abruptly and turns to look at Addison. Addison is so close behind Meredith, that she just barely keeps from running into her.

Meredith tilts her head and studies Addison intently. Addison matches her gaze, feels a shift in the air between them. Meredith's hair is wet and plastered to her head. Addison shivers as her mind wanders to another image, Dr. Grey almost lifeless on a hospital bed, tries to distract herself from the thought by concentrating on the face in front of her now, cheeks slightly pink from alcohol. She sees Meredith leaning toward her. Still, she doesn't quite process what's happening until Meredith's lips are on hers and her body reacts of its own accord, hands settling on Meredith's waist and lips responding eagerly, before her mind can catch up and remind her of all the reasons this shouldn't be happening, can't be happening.

The rain continues to beat down on them and Addison's hands are cold, almost numb, except where her fingertips touch the warm skin of Meredith's back. The warmth is a welcome reminder that Meredith is here, alive, her heart beating.

Moments later, Meredith pulls away, ending the kiss as quickly as she began it. She takes Addison's hand in her own and pulls Addison along with her as she walks purposefully toward the door.

Meredith is fumbling for her keys while Addison's common sense battles her instinct in the decision to follow Meredith inside or to bolt as quickly as possible when the bright shine of headlights disrupts the dark surrounding them. Looking to the source of the light, Addison sees Izzie and George getting out of the car now parked next to hers in Meredith's driveway. She's never felt anything quite like this mixture of relief and disappointment before.

She reaches out, brushing Meredith's hand lightly with her own. And then she turns and heads down the stairs and past George and Izzie who look at her open mouthed and questioning when she says, in her most commanding attending surgeon voice, "Look after her." before jumping in her car and heading back out the driveway.

She wonders briefly what they saw and how they interpreted it, if tomorrow the hallways of Seattle Grace will be buzzing with rumors about what exactly is going on between Dr. Montgomery and her ex-husband’s girlfriend. Addison should be worried about that but she finds herself distracted, replaying the events Izzie and George interrupted.

When she reaches the end of Meredith's street she pauses, closes her eyes and allows her tongue to trace her lips and taste the hint of tequila that she didn't drink.

II.

Two days later, after many near misses in hallways it's, as usual, it’s the Seattle Grace elevator that foils their attempts to avoid one another.

"You kissed me," Addison says matter-of-factly as soon as the doors close. They can't dodge each other forever, best to get it out of the way.

"I did," Meredith says, her voice quiet and her eyes trained stubbornly on a piece of wall just past Addison's left shoulder.

"Why?"

Meredith looks up then, finally catches Addison's eyes, her gaze steady in a way it wasn't that night. "Why'd you take me home?" she counters.

"Because, I..." Addison's tongue stumbles over the words she wants to say so that her voice is laced with frustration when she finally settles on, "Because you matter to me, Meredith."

She doesn't stop herself this time. When she feels the urge to reach out and brush Meredith's hair from her eyes, she does it. It's, easy, almost natural. She can't help but notice the dark circles under Meredith's eyes, curses herself for her part in putting them there and even more for the way her trembling fingers betray the weight of her emotion. There's a flash of recognition in Meredith's eyes, an understanding that wasn't there just moments ago.

Meredith laughs. It's not a joyful sound, it borders on disbelief. "You realize that's stupid, right?" she asks. "Given who we are," she raises her hand to gesture to Addison and then back at herself. "It's sweet, maybe, but mostly stupid."

Addison sighs. "I know." She had a therapist in New York who surely would have had a field day with this, her stubborn attraction to her husband's mistress. He'd have called it self destructive, at best a distraction. If she's thinking about Meredith, she's not thinking about why she spent the past several months trying to resuscitate a marriage she knew was dead or how she's convinced herself she'll find some purpose in Seattle she never found in New York.

But Addison won't ask anyone to analyze this. What she knows is there's a restlessness, an aching discontent that's been crawling under her skin for she can't remember how long now. Last night when Meredith kissed her she felt it, for the first time, still, almost dissipate.

Meredith pulls her out of her thoughts when she continues, "I mean, I'm not making any judgments. Obviously we're both a little stupid."

"You kissed me," Addison says again, this time allowing a playful edge to slip into her voice.

"I did," Meredith replies almost teasingly.

They're flirting, definitely flirting. And it's ridiculous that the fact that Meredith is smiling a genuine smile now, tongue just barely peeking out between her lips, should be the only thing capable of brightening Addison's dark mood.

III.

If she's honest with herself, Addison isn't surprised that, five days later, Meredith shows up at her hotel room, bottle of tequila in hand. Meredith's eyes are clear. She isn't drunk. The bottle is a prop, an excuse if Addison turns her away. Addison wishes Meredith knew how unnecessary it was.

She could tell her that but she settles for grabbing Meredith by the collar of her coat and pulling her roughly inside, pinning her arms against the wall and kissing her with an urgency she hopes conveys her point.

Because Addison can't say who is at fault anymore, doesn't really know if either of them is. Maybe they're both casualties of this unstoppable force that keeps them colliding into one another at high speed no matter how hard they try to fight it. Maybe they just have to make the most of it.

She bites down gently on Meredith's neck, tugs at the zipper of Meredith's jeans.

They're both gasping for air, grasping at anything to keep it together. And maybe that's partly because of him but this, right here and now, is about them. This is about the soft slide of Meredith's hands along Addison's back, the gentle hitch of Meredith's breath as Addison's teeth graze her neck.

When they kiss, Meredith's lips part readily for Addison's tongue and Addison feel a rush of something akin to freedom. There are no secrets, no artifices between them. They've seen the worst of each other and, if this is their best, they've chosen to share it with each other freely.

Neither of them hesitates when Addison grabs Meredith's waist and pulls her toward the bed.

There are a lot of things Addison expected to feel when the rush of passion and need was over. But, as they lie together later - a tangle of limbs and discarded clothes on the floor of Addison's hotel room - this quiet contentment, similar to a feeling she remembers only hazily from the early years of her marriage, wasn't one of them.

Meredith's head rests on Addison's chest and her fingertips stumble lazily over the skin of Addison's bare abdomen, pausing every once in a while then resuming. Some masochistic part of Addison's brain cannot help but imagine Meredith doing this with Derek. It's an image she's dwelt on more often than she'd like to admit since arriving in Seattle but this is the first time the accompanying spark of jealousy it ignites in her is directed at Derek.

IV.

It so quickly becomes familiar, the two of them tangled together in Addison's bed or Meredith's. Days roll into weeks and Addison grows used to the light weight of Meredith's head resting against her chest as they fall asleep.

Addison has turned it over in her head enough times now that she's sure, sure her feelings are about Meredith and not anything else, at least not any more. It's Meredith's quick intelligence and fierce loyalty both to her friends and her patients. It's the fact that, as a first year intern, she cuts like someone who has been operating for years. It's the way her lips curl, her expression nothing short of wicked when she pushes Addison against the wall in the hallway of the hotel and kisses her greedily, unwilling to wait for Addison to find her key and open the door to her room.

"You could tell me you know," Addison says one night when they're both half asleep, this time in Meredith's bed.

"What?"

"Whatever it is you're not telling Derek."

Meredith is silent for a moment before responding. "What makes you think there's something to tell?"

"Well, you're here with me for one."

Meredith responds by rolling so her back is facing Addison, curling more tightly into herself. Addison hates moments like these, when Meredith seems so small, so far away.

"I can go," Addison says. She shouldn't have asked, but it's impossible to ignore that sometimes Meredith is not okay.

Addison is sitting up, eyes scanning the room for her clothes, when Meredith says, quietly and with an affect of complete disinterest, "You don't have to go. It's late. You could stay or whatever."

From anyone else it might seem like a brush off but this is Meredith and Addison knows this is the closest she's going to get to Meredith asking her to stay, the closest she'll get to Meredith acknowledging her question. It's enough, though, knowing that Meredith wants her here. Addison relaxes back into the bed, closing her eyes.

Addison is still awake when Meredith shifts just slightly, but so carefully that Addison knows it must be deliberate, so that her head is resting on Addison's shoulder.

V.

"I think Yang knows," Addison says.

"Cristina knows what?" Meredith punctuates the question with a muffled yawn.

"About us. She practically stared me down when I ran into her at the nurse's station this morning."

"She does know," Meredith says. "I told her."

"You..." Addison doesn't know how to reply and Meredith must mistake her shock for anger because her response comes out in a jumbled rush.

"She won't tell anyone. I made her promise. I just she's my best friend and this is... we're..." Meredith keeps her head down, eyes focused on the comforter until Addison reaches out and puts a hand under her chin and gently lifts Meredith's face so they're looking at one another.

"Meredith, it's okay. I'm just surprised."

Meredith simply shrugs. "Not to make you feel any less special but she's used to my questionable romantic decisions."

It stings. It shouldn't, but it does. And, as well as Addison might think she hides it, Meredith obviously sees it.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. You're fantastic. I'm lucky to be with you, whatever this is. I just meant the circumstance is a little..." Meredith trails off and throws her hands up as if in defeat.

"Less than ideal," Addison suggest dryly.

"Something like that," Meredith agrees. "But not you. You're totally ideal."

Addison reaches out and tugs on Meredith's arm urging Meredith closer until she is once again settled next to Addison, her head resting against Addison's chest.

"Well, all I'm saying is I could have used a little warning when it came to Yang. I tried staring back but she was intense. I actually made up a surgery to get away from her and then she started begging to scrub in."

Addison feels the vibration of Meredith's laughter against her skin before she hears it.

"It's not funny," Addison protests but she knows there's a smile playing at the edges of her mouth despite her words.

"It is." Meredith's not even attempting to hide her laughter now. "I would have paid to see you convincing Cristina she couldn't scrub in on your imaginary surgery."

Addison feels it suddenly, a sharp certainty in her chest. She wants this, Meredith in her bed, her laughter warm against Addison's skin. She wants this to last.

And it can't, not now.

VI.

"I took a job in L.A.," she says later that night. "Well, really forced someone to give me a job in L.A. but the point is I'm leaving Seattle Grace."

She's spent the day trying to talk herself alternately into and out of this move, one she was so sure of before she knew the feel of Meredith's lips against her own. She's written a list of pros and cons, never sure which category Meredith might fall into.

She knows Meredith is the only good thing she has left here, doesn't even laugh at the irony of it anymore. But Addison knows she'll suffocate in Seattle, and their relationship along with her.

Addison thought she had prepared herself for every possible response but, of course, Meredith surprises her.

Meredith pauses, hand in mid air reaching for her coffee cup. And then she gets up and walks out of Addison's hotel room without a word. Addison might have called it their first fight if any words had been spoken.

Addison's feet move to follow Meredith out the door but she stills when her hand touches the doorknob. If she's going to follow Meredith, she needs to know what to say.

‘You weren't supposed to be someone I could fall in love with. I wasn't ready for that.’

But that doesn't seem fair.

She wants to ask Meredith to come with her, wants to imagine who they could be together somewhere far away from Seattle. But, Addison's not a romantic anymore, at least not the way she used to be. The truth is, they'll never be new. They'll always have started here, surrounded by the things that broke them both. And she wishes more than anything that those things weren't all tangled up with Meredith because it's them she needs to leave behind, not Meredith.

So, she doesn't follow Meredith. She calls later, leaves a voicemail. "It isn't you. I don't want to leave you." She sighs as she hangs up. It's not enough but it's all she has to offer.

VII.

Two days later she's at the airport bar, drink in hand, and the last time she saw Meredith, maybe the last time she will ever see Meredith again, she put that look in her eye, the hurt she'd promised she'd never cause again.

Her feet click in a nervous rhythm against the barstool. Every inch of her body vibrates with the desire to turn around, to walk out of this airport and show up at Meredith's door.

And then there's a familiar voice and a familiar body sliding onto the bar stool next to her.

"I bought a ticket to Vegas," Meredith says.

"What?" Addison's body, previously alive with nervous energy, stills completely when she registers Meredith's presence next to her.

"Vegas," Meredith repeats impatiently, producing the ticket from her pocket holding it up for Addison’s inspection, as though the meaning is obvious and Addison's surprise at her arrival unreasonable. "Cheapest ticket that would get me through the gate." She waves the bartender over and orders two shots of tequila. "Maybe I'll actually go," she says. When the bartender sets the glasses down, Meredith nudges one of the shots toward Addison then deftly plucks a lime out of a bowl sitting on the counter and holds it out in Addison's direction.

Addison takes the lime and runs a finger around the rim of her glass, doesn't have a chance to respond before Meredith raises her glass in a toast.

"To unlikely..." Meredith pauses a moment, a small smile playing on her lips, "friendships."

Addison grins and clinks her glass against Meredith's. The she raises the glass to her lips and drinks. The tequila is a vivid reminder of their first kiss, the warm taste on Meredith's lips.

"I'm not going to stay and do the whole thing," Meredith announces when she's finished her shot. When Addison merely raises an eyebrow, Meredith continues, "You know, the thing. With the goodbyes and the waiting at the gate and the waving or whatever.”

"Absolutely not," Addison agrees. "Terribly pedestrian, all the waving."

Addison doesn’t need the tearful hug at the departure gate when she has this, Meredith sitting across from her with a ticket to Vegas in her pocket that, despite what she says, Addison knows she’ll never use.

"It's settled then," Meredith says. She stands and leans toward Addison, one hand reaching out to tangle in Addison's hair, the other coming to rest at Addison's waist. Then Meredith kisses her. There's promise, Addison thinks, in Meredith's lips on hers - in the way Meredith's fingers linger easily on her waist before letting go and turning to walk away.

Someday, maybe, they'll be ready to get it right.


End file.
